The dining had been silent for days. Silent, but not peaceful. It was like living inside a frozen storm—every breath felt risky, every word a threat.
Caleb stood by the doorway of Lucian's private study, hands clasped behind him, trying to keep his breathing steady. He'd been summoned, but not briefed. That alone made his skin prickle with unease. Mr. Han had said, "The master wishes to see you," with a tone that suggested death was just as likely as conversation.
Lucian didn't look up when the door opened. He continued reading, even as Caleb quietly approached and bowed. The desk was immaculate and cold, like the man behind it. A glass ashtray glinted beside an untouched cup of black coffee, steam long faded.
"You called for me," Caleb finally said. His voice was steady, polite. He'd practiced silence, but never disrespect.
Lucian leaned back slowly, then finally pinned him with a gaze sharp enough to skin a man alive.
"You're going to listen closely," he said. "Because I'm only saying this once."
Caleb swallowed, nodding. The air was thick enough to choke on.
"From today onward, you will live by my rules. If you want to stay in this house—and I'm only saying house out of politeness—you will follow them. Word for word."
He slowly stood, walking toward the windows overlooking the courtyard. "Rule one," he continued evenly, like reciting a legal statement. "You do not enter my office. Ever. Knock or not—you do not cross this threshold."
Caleb lowered his gaze. His heart pounded against his ribs, but his face remained neutral. "Understood," he murmured.
"Rule two: You do not speak to me unless spoken to." Lucian turned, eyes narrowing. "If I go three days without acknowledging you, you do not question it. It will be intentional."
A sting bloomed across Caleb's chest. But still—he nodded.
"And rule three…" Lucian's voice lowered, dangerous. "You do not touch me. Not my clothes, not my sleeve, not my skin. Your presence is tolerable. Your touch is not."
The weight of that final rule sank deep in Caleb's bones.
Not that he had hoped for affection. Not really. But to be told, so explicitly, that any connection between them was repulsive… it sliced cruelly through him. He'd never asked for this marriage. He had never begged for love. And yet—he was now being punished as if he'd committed a crime.
The door burst open with a jolt.
Jaxon Reed strode in, lips curled. "Lucian. Did you forget that humans need dignity to survive?" His tone was too casual to be respectful. He was the only one in this world who dared to speak that way to Lucian Thorne.
Lucian didn't flinch. "You're interrupting."
"And you're being an ass." Jaxon came to stand beside Caleb, arms crossed. "You're treating him like property. He hasn't done a damn thing except get forced into your mess."
Lucian's jaw flexed. A sharp laugh, humorless and dangerous, slipped through his teeth. "What I do with my spouse is none of your concern."
Caleb stared at the floor, utterly still. He felt like the reason the temperature had dropped a few degrees.
"It is my concern when you treat him like trash," Jaxon snapped. "He's not your servant. He's not a pawn. He's a person."
Lucian's eyes darkened, glinting with something violent. "Don't push me, Jaxon."
"Or what? You'll kill me? Go on, try." Jaxon stepped closer, expression unflinching. "You hated being forced into this marriage, fine. But he did nothing wrong."
Caleb raised his hands quickly, voice quiet and strained. "Please… don't fight over me. I'm not worth—"
Lucian slammed his hand on the desk, silencing him.
"You do not speak unless spoken to," he growled—ice-cold and venomous.
The whole room stilled.
Caleb's throat tightened.
This—this was his life now. A world where speaking was a sin. Where a raised voice meant fear, not protection.
Jaxon clicked his tongue, stepping away. "You know what your problem is? You think cruelty keeps people loyal." He glanced at Caleb, eyes softening for a moment. "But people like him only break."
Lucian's glare could have cut through steel. "I don't care if he breaks."
Liar, Caleb thought. But he kept it buried deep.
Because somewhere… somewhere beneath that frost, Lucian did care. He had shielded him during the attack. Instinctively. Unthinkingly. A moment born of instinct, not calculation.
But that moment was dying fast.
Jaxon sighed heavily and moved to leave. "Consider being a husband, not an executioner," he said before walking out.
The door closed behind him.
Silence returned. A heavy, black silence.
Lucian walked closer, each step measured like he controlled time, not just the room. He leaned down, just inches from Caleb's face. His breath was cold. His gaze, colder.
"If you want to stay alive in this house… you will obey every rule I say." His voice dropped to a quiet, terrifying whisper. "And if you ever cross them…"
His lips curled into a thin smile that never reached his eyes.
"I'll make you regret ever being born."
Caleb's heart stopped for one endless beat.
And here, in the heart of the mansion that bore his new title—husband—Caleb realized that this place was not a home.
It was a cage.
And the man in front of him? The warden.